


Faithful

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto gets the last part of the Crownsguard uniform.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 14
Kudos: 126





	Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“You don’t have to do this,” Noctis says for maybe the hundredth time, even though, technically, he _does_. It’s not like anyone will know if he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be the first time Noctis lied about royal protocol. Prompto wasn’t raised in the Citadel—he just shouldn’t be held to the same crazy standards. But he sucks in a breath and bravely shakes his head.

“No, I... I do.” He swallows and lifts his wide blue eyes to Noctis, reminding both of them: “Ignis and Gladiolus both wear one, right?”

“Yeah.” Of course. Ignis had one on before Noctis himself was ready for it—his hands still tremble when he thinks about slipping it on for the first time. Ignis had always seemed so put together, so impenetrable, and then all of a sudden he was shy and vulnerable and quiet in Noctis’ shaking grasp. At least Noctis was more ready for Gladiolus, and Gladiolus was cocky, almost challenging about it—way less embarrassing. 

Prompto’s a whole other story, because the court didn’t hand Prompto over on a silver platter—Noctis picked Prompto out himself. Prompto’s an unwitting outsider that just keeps falling deeper and deeper into old, outdated traditions, and Noctis should really put an end to them—should put his foot down and say he’s _not_ going to chain his best friend to him. Bad enough that his shield and advisor are so fully under his command. Prompto breathes, “I wanna pledge myself to you too, so...”

“You already have your Crownsguard fatigues. That’s enough...”

Prompto licks his pink lips, drawing Noctis’ eyes to the movement, and insists, “No, I... I wanna do it, Noct. Or... I mean, I want _you_ to do it. To me.” Noctis could totally take that out of context but wills himself not to, because it’s not going to do either of them any good if he gets hard.

Prompto’s not hard, even though he’s usually stiff long before Noctis gets his pants off. This is the first time he’s ever been in Noctis’ bed, legs spread, pants down, and _not_ been rock-hard. It’s probably nerves. His black shirt is long enough to drape over his lap and obscure his crotch, which somewhat helps Noctis concentrate on the conversation, though Noctis can still see the subtle hump of his flaccid dick through the fabric. The small silver cage rests next to his thigh, ready and waiting. Prompto’s fingers curl into the hem of his shirt, and he slowly draws it up. 

The invitation’s obvious. Prompto bids anyway, “ _Noct._ ”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll... I’ll do it...” His breath is coming short too. But Noctis steals himself over into _prince mode_ and starts moving. He plucks the cool metal up. It’s the exact same size as the other two were, even though Ignis is a little longer than Prompto and Gladiolus is far thicker than both of them. It shouldn’t be a one-size-fits-all deal, but it is. Noctis disentangles the first ring from the sloping tube and tentatively reaches for Prompto’s cock.

Under normal circumstances, he’s on Prompto in a heartbeat, touching everything and everywhere, fast and eager and insatiable, but now it’s hard to keep his hands steady, and he’s hyper aware of the way Prompto’s shaft twitches when he brushes over it. Noctis tries to go slow. He tries to be mechanical instead of sensual. It won’t work if Prompto gets hard. 

Prompto holds his breath as Noctis draws the largest ring down his shaft, only to carefully push it past his balls. There’s a bit of gentle tugging involved that makes Prompto wince and Noctis mutter, “Sorry.”

But Prompto says, “It’s fine,” and doesn’t pull away. He lets Noctis adjust the ring beyond his sac. Then there’s a bit of twisting—the peg at the top needs to line up with the rest of the cage.

The cage itself is easier to slip on. Noctis tenderly guides Prompto’s cock into it and checks every line, every ring, not wanting to catch the skin and needing to know if it’s too tight, but it looks fine. Better than fine. Noctis still hesitates for a second, giving Prompto another out, but Prompto doesn’t take it. So Noctis latches the two parts together and fetches the lock. 

It clicks right into place. Just like that, it’s done: Prompto’s dick is securely held back, leaving enough of an opening to piss through but no room to harden. Not without Noctis’ key unfastening the device, anyway. Noctis is tempted to ignore protocol and let Prompto take his own key home, but that would defeat the whole purpose. 

Even after it’s done, Prompto stays deathly still, minus his chest practically heaving with each deep breath. The anticipation still seems to be snaking through him. Noctis lingers too, just staring at his work—at Prompto’s pink skin flushed between slick metal, and the swell of his balls tucked so neatly underneath. It’s probably not supposed to be as alluring as it is. It’s supposed to make sure his soldiers can’t get distracted: that they stay fully devoted to him in every possible way. But having Prompto pant-less and tied up in his bedroom just looks _hot_.

Prompto’s hot. Noctis shouldn’t dwell on that. It’d be cruel to get hard when Prompto can’t too, and it’d be ridiculous to put the cage on only to take it off within five minutes. But the whole thing’s ridiculous and Prompto’s _so cute_ and Noctis still isn’t over how amazing it is to have him. 

Noctis tests, “Is it... is it okay? Not too uncomfortable, or...”

“S’fine.” Prompto looks down at it, then at Noctis’ hand lying right next to it, and the whole thing twitches. 

Noctis half scolds, half teases, “Don’t get hard, Prompto.”

Prompto scrunches his eyes shut and mutters, “I know... but you touching me there...”

“I know.” He’s the same way whenever Prompto touches him. In a weird way, he’s proud of Prompto for enduring even the first few seconds. He shows that by leaning in to peck Prompto’s cheek, and his hand shifts to Prompto’s thigh, giving it a soothing stroke. “I’ll take it off when you need,” he promises. “All you have to do is ask.”

“It’s not supposed to work like that though, is it? I’m supposed to control myself and not... do _that_... unless my prince wants me...”

“But your prince always wants you.”

Prompto snorts. But it’s so true. Noctis would be just as happy if royal protocol dictated he strap Prompto into a milking machine that would keep him hard twenty-four seven. Or better yet, if the Citadel just stayed out of Noctis’ life entirely and let him fuck people and put people in the Crownsguard independently. Not that it’s worked out too horribly for him. By the time Prompto was asking for an official position at Noctis’ side, Noctis was already smitten. 

He gives Prompto’s thigh a little squeeze and smiles. Prompto sheepishly smiles back. 

“You won’t lose my key, right?”

“Never.”

He did lose Ignis’ once, but that was years ago, and Prompto doesn’t need to know about it. 

“Can I put my pants back on now?”

Noctis is sorely tempted to say ‘no’, because he doesn’t really _ever_ want Prompto to wear pants. But that doesn’t exactly jive with the chastity device he’s now sporting, so Noctis begrudgingly agrees, “Sure.”

Prompto tilts in to give Noctis a quick kiss, then climbs off the bed to collect his discarded clothes. Noctis makes a move towards the living room, where their movie’s paused and waiting, but then he comes back to take the key with him—just in case.


End file.
